


One Sentimental Moment In Your Arms

by CaptainSlow



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018) Actor RPF
Genre: Fluff without Plot, M/M, POV Third Person, lotsa hugs, oh my god everybody knows get married already, those two don't need any plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-10-23 15:23:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17686043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainSlow/pseuds/CaptainSlow
Summary: "Oh my god," Lucy laughs and turns away from the scene. "Come on, I feel like we're prying!""We are," Rami grins but lets himself be led away."We shouldn't be," she answers. "That's too precious for anyone else's eyes."





	One Sentimental Moment In Your Arms

_And no one ever told me that love would hurt so much_  
_Ooh yes it hurts_  
_And pain is so close to pleasure_  
_And all I can do is surrender to your love_  
_Just surrender to your love.*©_

*****

****Lucy****

*****

Lucy is in the midst of arranging the final details of the birthday party when she is distracted from it by the doorbell ring. There are no guests yet, they're due to arrive a couple of hours later; Rami is out with a grocery shopping list, and when she heads for the front door, she's expecting to see him standing behind it, arms most probably occupied with fully stuffed shopping bags. She doesn't, however, expect to encounter Ben, an intricately composed bunch of flowers in his hand and with a cheeky conspiring smile plastered to his lips.

"Ben?" she asks, puzzled but delighted to see him anyway, wondering if there perhaps has been some misunderstanding about the time.

"Hi, birthday girl!" he says. "I must apologise for barging in on you like this, but I've actually brought you a present. Those are also for you," he nods at the flowers in his hand, "but you'll need your arms free for now."

Lucy laughs in reply, even more mystified than before. "What, a surprise birthday present? That sounds fun!"

"Well, yes, sort of," Ben huffs. "We'd arrive on time, like decent guests are supposed to, but the present in question absolutely couldn't wait and insisted we crashed the party before it even began."

"The present… _what_?" Lucy asks with a smile, now completely lost, wondering what the hell Ben's on about.

"Oh, just move over already, that's too much suspense even for my liking!"

There's that dear familiar voice full of sass and the next moment its owner appears right next to Ben on the very front steps of her home. Unbelievably, it really is Joe, who actually ought to be in LA right at this very moment, not stand on her porch grinning at her with that trademark smile of his.

"Oh my god!!!" Lucy nearly shrieks, both sounding and feeling like a little girl who has just been lucky enough to bump into her crush from a boyband, and pulls Joe inside, simultaneously enclosing him into a hug. "You bloody liar, you! You said you wouldn't be able to come because of some arrangements in LA!"

"Hi, honey," Joe laughs, lifting her off the ground and swirling her around before carefully putting her down onto the floor. "I'm not a liar, today I'm the actual present!"

He lets her out of his embrace and she turns to Ben, who's still standing at the door, grinning at both of them, a bunch of flowers in his hand, and only now does it finally click.

"Told you you'd need your arms free for this particular present," he laughs.

"Oh my god, Ben," Lucy exclaims. "You… you two are just… I have no words!" She steps to Ben and hugs him properly, too. "Thank you ever so much for bringing this treasure back to London! I couldn't have asked for a better gift!"

"I knew you'd appreciate it," Ben laughs. "Makes a good present, doesn't he?"

"Hey, I'm still here in case you want to keep referring to me in the third person!" Joe chips in, pretending to be scandalised.

Both Lucy and Ben ignore him completely.

"How did you manage to convince him to come here? I thought he was busy in the States," Lucy asks, stepping back and stopping between the two of them, with a bunch of flowers in her hands. She's indeed feeling like a little princess today, spoilt rotten by her most beloved people. 

"Well, admittedly, convincing didn't work quite well," Ben smirks, giving Joe a brief look. "So I had to resort to kidnapping him, as I promised."

Everybody laughs at that, and as Lucy watches them exchange occasional glances, which are so fleeting but so exceptionally eloquent in spite of that, it's becoming increasingly obvious to her that it's not just that those two are blatantly in love. She's known that for quite a while, but what she has the chance to observe now, their brilliant smiles directed at each other and those glances full of some special mutual understanding only couples normally have, testifies that they're not merely in love. She's ready to wager that they're actually having an affair, and why not – from her humble point of view of a third-party observer, it's been coming to this for months on end.

"Do you think you could hold him hostage here so that he wouldn't skip back across the pond to his beloved New York?" Lucy turns to Ben, and, even though she's on the verge of breaking into giggles, she doesn't mean it strictly as a joke.

Ben throws a subtle glance at Joe before answering, a small smile playing on his lips, but even despite it being fleeting and very mild, it speaks volumes, to Lucy anyway. She has no idea whether other people actually manage to notice anything at all, or even if they do, whether they understand the meaning behind it, but to her these looks Ben and Joe have started to exchange as of late are absolutely unambiguous. She wishes she could actually tell them just how happy she is to see them being happy together and what an absolutely perfect match they make, but apparently, she'll have to wait until they come out of their closet and decide to break the news to their immediate circle of friends.

"One day, I just might," Ben smirks in response to her not quite joking question.

He isn't looking at Lucy while saying it, though; it's Joe who has his full attention, and she supposes his answer is meant for their New Yorker man in the first place.

"If you need help, count on me," Lucy grins and gives him a wink. "I'm always in for anything which means making this sassy human bean stay here for longer."

They all laugh at this, and then Lucy ushers them inside, saying that since they decided that barging in on her amidst her birthday party preparations would be a good idea, they might as well give her a helping hand with arranging the whole thing. In the end, she confines them to the kitchen, right after Rami has arrived with the needed groceries. He is pleasantly surprised to see Joe, but, as he tells her later, he isn't surprised to see him being brought to London by Ben.

"I think they simply cannot get enough of each other," he tells her as they observe, unnoticed, the pair fussing over salads in the kitchen. "I can't find any other explanation why Joe would come here for only a few days all the way from LA just to fly back there again, and then across the entire country to New York, and all that in a matter of one week. Only fools in love are capable of it."

Lucy smiles at him and pecks him on the cheek. "Oh, I know right?" she laughs quietly.

The two lovebirds in the kitchen, meanwhile, laugh about something, too. Ben is facing the counter while apparently chopping something, and Joe is leaning against it with his behind, hands stuck into the pockets if his trousers. They're so very close Joe's shoulder touches Ben's, and this doesn't seem to be uncomfortable for either of them. On the contrary, they somehow manage to create the impression that even this is not close enough and, weren't they here in the kitchen of Lucy's house, they'd definitely remedy that.

Then Joe says something, with that slightly crooked smirk on his lips which signifies yet another portion of his sarcastic self. Without distracting from doing what he's doing, Ben bumps him with his hip, playfully enough but nearly making Joe lose his balance all the same. While Joe's arms fly up and flail around as he's trying to keep on his feet, Ben reaches out to him, wrapping his arm around his middle and steadying him in place. They both laugh at this, and even though there's no risk of Joe's falling anymore, Ben's in no hurry to let go of him. Instead, he lets his arm slide around Joe's waist more securely and then turns halfway to face him. This way, they almost end up in a hug as Joe's hand comes to rest on Ben's elbow, and both are grinning the silliest of grins only lovers besotted with each other are capable of. Neither Rami, nor Lucy are actually worried they'll be caught staring at them – those two are way too preoccupied with each other to notice anything. They'd probably miss the apocalypse were it to start right in this kitchen.

Since Joe's just a bit shorter than Ben he has to slightly lift his chin so that their eyes could be on the same level, and this little motion gives him an adorably audacious look. Ben must be thinking in the same lines because the next moment he shakes his head and plants a tiniest of kisses on the corner of Joe's mouth.

"Oh my god," Lucy laughs and turns away from the scene. "Come on, I feel like we're prying!"

"We  _are_ ," Rami grins but lets himself be led away.

"We shouldn't be," she answers. "That's too precious for anyone else's eyes."

*****

****Rami****

*****

Rami looks at his two friends and, for some reason, even though they aren't doing anything out of ordinary at all, merely engaging in a conversation with each other amidst the award ceremony party which almost the entire cast is attending – nothing to even pay attention to – he cannot take his eyes off them. It's like they – and he means this  _'they'_  as if they were some separate entity, which they most probably are – manage to attract his attention via some kind of yet unknown gravitation. Though, perhaps, he's dodging the truth here – there is a name for this sort of gravitation and he knows it perfectly well, it's just that he didn't expect to ever use it with regard to Ben and Joe.

He's been through this himself, drawn helplessly to another person without any hope for resistance at all, and this huge source of gravity, this profound feeling, is nothing else but love. He still cannot take his eyes off Lucy even though they have been dating for quite a long while now – she is so immaculate, precious and exceptional he suspects he'll never be able to get used to her sheer magnificence. And just like this weird pull is working between the two of them, the very intensity of their feeling seems to attract other people, too. This is exactly what is happening right now while he's watching Ben and Joe chat about something a little way away from the general crowd.

He doesn't know if he is surprised to see them like that or not in the slightest. Probably, he shouldn't be, after all, considering the amount of joking about Ben and Joe actually being in love with each other; and if for a moment you imagine that it wasn't strictly joking for at least some part of the time, then, hey, those two should be where they are now, together, only having eyes for each other, radiating affection and infatuation in waves which seem to spread through the entire venue and illuminate it all.

"My fucking god," Rami says quietly when Gwil joins him. "Just look at them." He sounds utterly amazed even to his own ears.

"Those two?" the big guy asks, smiling. "Amazing, huh?"

"I've honestly never seen Joe  _this_  happy, ever, and I've known him for eleven years," Rami says, not taking his eyes of the pair.

Gwil smirks and nods, looking quite surprised too. "Look at Ben. I think if Joe smiles at him again, he'll shine like a bloody light bulb."

Rami does shift his eyes from Joe to Ben, and, indeed, he's not sure he's ever seen him quite like this either. He's had plenty of opportunities to watch him being happy, of course, laughing or joking or having fun, but _this_ is utterly different. Joe and him, they've always had that particular chemistry between them, a subtly different kind from what the rest of the cast shared. They simply clicked from the very first day they met and even though all of them got on like a house on fire, it was obvious that those two had literally found each other. A perfect match right from the start.

Ben's always looked delighted in Joe's company, but the tonight's _delighted_ is surpassing it all. It's like their already close relationship has changed, and given just how close they were as friends, Rami supposes there could possibly have been only one development. Ben's smiles, both the ones he shares with the world tonight as well as those he reserves specifically for Joe, are simply brilliant. He looks content, at peace and absolutely happy.

Then Rami notices another little – and at first glance, absolutely trivial – detail. Ben's hand rests on Joe's back, just a little way above his waist. There's nothing particularly special about the gesture, either – it's perfectly okay to do that to a person you're more or less close to, and it doesn't really have to imply anything more than mere friendship. But with those two, it does. It practically cries; cries about possessiveness and protection and care. Ben's fingers are splayed against Joe's jacket, as if he's trying to be able to touch more of him all at once, and if that's not the sign of pure affection, Rami doesn't think there is one. Joe, in his turn, looks absolutely content to have Ben hold him like this, and Rami wonders whether anyone but close friends of theirs notice anything out of ordinary here, or if everyone is so accustomed to their recurring jokes with romantic connotation that they simply don't take the two of them seriously.

If they don't, it's most certainly for the better – love becomes a brittle and vulnerable thing when made public, and Rami very much hopes that the existing joke about bromances and love triangles and whatnot, which involves not only Ben and Joe, but also him, Gwil and Allen, will serve as some sort of protection and provide them with the necessary time to adapt to their status of lovers. Because, for all Rami knows, even though they're more than obvious to the close circle of friends, they haven't yet told a single soul about their affair, which can only mean one thing – for the time being they want to keep it private. Admittedly, they're not doing a particularly good job out of it, but, Rami reckons, while one can restrict themselves from talking about love and expressing it physically, it would be nigh on impossible to banish it from one's eyes and subconscious gestures, so perhaps it's not Ben and Joe's fault that they're so in love they can't quite suppress it.

Next to him, Gwil lets out a soft chuckle. "They're a fucking match, aren't they?"

"Uh-huh. _Made in Heaven_ ," Rami laughs, always glad to quote something from the geniuses.

"I think Freddie would be glad to know a film about him actually managed to spark love between so many people," Gwil says, sounding a little dreamy. His eyes are still on Ben and Joe, who seem to be enclosed into a little cosy universe of their own.

"I'll be forever grateful to him," Rami says softly. "For Lucy and for all of you."

*****

****Gwil****

*****

The tree of them are crashing in Joe's living room in front of the TV and it's another boys-only party, which is such a bliss to be able to have again. Joe is dragging them on a road trip he's been nagging them about for ages in a couple of days, but for the time being they're just having fun in New York, mainly walking around the city, stuffing their faces with delicious food and enjoying each other's company.

Currently, a game of football is on, one which Joe has simply refused to miss. Ben and Gwil went along with it, but not without a necessary amount of teasing Joe for it. Joe himself is absorbed by the match completely, only occasionally taking part in their conversation, with Ben and Gwil doing most of the talking. But even that is all right – just the mere chance to get their little gang of friends back together again is priceless, so if Joe insists on combining it with his other favourite pastime, Gwil isn't going to be the one complaining about it.

They don't meet as frequently as he would love to, damn those miles separating them, and skipping back and forth across the pond is not exactly Gwil's favourite leisure time activity. He suspects that Ben has been doing quite a lot of the skipping thing as of late, though; either that, or Joe has secretly been coming to visit him in London, which Gwil could never forgive them. He can understand their lovesickness and he doesn't care if Ben wants to rush between the two continents on a weekly basis, but if Joe comes to London and ignores his other mates, Gwil is going to hold a grudge against him for the rest of his life.

It's not that he's supposed to know about any lovesickness whatsoever, though, as those two smitten fools are still doing their best to keep the appearance of being just friends. Gwil wonders for just how long they're going to try to keep it all secret, at least from their immediate circle of friends. Not that it's his business and he's sure they certainly know better what's best for them, but in his humble unasked opinion, their relationship has been pretty obvious to anyone who has happened to see them together lately. Then again, he doesn't know for sure if there is any relationship at all, but he'd bet his bottom dollar on it if asked to. In any case, whatever affair they're having, love is certainly involved. You don't need to look closely to notice it – the way those two look at each other, the brief glances they occasionally exchange using them as a means of wordless communication and the virtually non-existent distance between them wherever they are together normally speak louder than words.

Presently, the three of them are occupying a corner sofa, with Joe and Ben – predictably enough – lounging on the longer side of it together and Gwil sitting on the shorter one. They're well into the game and just a little bit into the sixpack of beer, and as a pause in their conversation ensues, Ben stretches his limbs, semi-successfully managing to suppress a yawn.

"That's quite an interesting conversation you two are having," Joe observes, not even deigning to divert his gaze from the screen. The smartass bastard is actually smirking to himself, apparently pleased with his sense of humour.

"That's quite an interesting game you're watching," Ben retorts, making a face at Joe. The latter doesn't turn to look at either of them, but his smirk transforms into a smile. "So much so that people around are falling asleep just listening to the commentary."

At that, their host playfully gives Ben an elbow, now grinning his famous billion dollars grin.

"Perhaps if you only made an effort to actually try to refrain from your constant moaning about it and watch it properly for once, you'd understand the beauty of it," Joe replies, not distracting from the screen.

"I'll bloody take you to a rugby game one day," Ben rolls his eyes but he's smiling, too. "And if you refuse to go, I'll drag you there by force."

To Gwil, this brief exchange sounds like a conversation held between an old married couple, one where both spouses occasionally address each other with something in the lines of  _'You blithering idiot'_  which sounds almost like an endearment. Despite all the inconveniences his friends' affair might be causing in terms of having to keep the appearance of  _not_  knowing anything about them, it's actually a great amusement to see how their interaction has subtly changed and transformed into something like _this_.

"All right," Gwil says in feigned reconciliation. " _I_ 'm willing to make an effort. What was it about the rules and how it's different from rugby, after all, eh?"

This time, Joe does distract from the game and gives him a glance that could kill if it weren't coming from Joe. As it is, it looks as if he does want to commit a homicide but is too busy trying to hold back the giggles.

"You troll, Lee," he smirks, rolls his eyes and returns them back to the screen.

"Mate, I'm serious!" Gwil laughs in reply. "Go on, do a little commentary on the game, humour us."

"Oh Jesus fucking Christ on a bicycle!" Ben exclaims in mock disgust. "Don't encourage him, he wouldn't shut up about it!"

At this, Joe finally turns to look at him, one eyebrow cocked. "What exactly do you have against football, Ben?" he asks, imitating John Deacon's accent so brilliantly they all burst out laughing.

"Your alter-ego has just spoken, Joe," Ben smirks. "Keep your inner John Deacon at bay, we won't be able to bear the two of you. As to your question, the only thing I have against it is that it's not exactly football, is it?"

"Translating what Ben's just said," Gwil pipes in, unable to help himself, "the only thing he's got against it is that you just don't pay him enough attention whilst being glued to the screen with your bloody football on."

"Oh god," Ben huffs, "stop it, you're both awful."

Joe's eyes leave the screen again and shift to Ben.

"Oh, and that's just it?" he asks, pretending to be surprised. "You could've told me as much yourself, Benny," he says, trying to be serious but failing miserably. His grin threatens to split his face in half. "Come here, baby."

With that, he actually reaches out towards Ben and pulls him into his lap, not as abruptly as he once did whilst they were filming the  _I want to break free_  scene, but the similarity is there. Watching Joe do it, Gwil reflects silently on just how damn well-practised he seems to be in pulling Ben into his lap. The latter lets out a laughter-choked  _'Hey-hey-hey,_ I _didn't ask for it!',_  but he doesn't particularly resist being manhandled like this all the same. He ends up half-sprawled across Joe's lap, secured in his arms and laughing manically.

"See?" Joe asks, rocking him gently. "All remedied. And now that everyone's finally settled, would the two of you be so kind as to shut up at last and let me see the rest of the game?"

He returns his eyes back to the screen, not seemingly intent upon letting Ben out of his hold at all. Gwil watches them curiously, wondering what they'll do now. They actually look so awfully at peace with each other, so comfortable, that they'd probably gladly remain like this for the rest of the evening.

Meanwhile, Ben huffs, sounding just a tad exasperated.

"Fine," he mutters, "I'm just gonna keep yawning right into your face, until I pass out from sheer excitement."

Having said that, he shifts in Joe's arms. He's not trying to get up, though, he's merely adjusting his position so that his head ends up resting in the crook of Joe's arm, shoulders in his lap, as he stretches his legs along the seat of the sofa and then closes his eyes.  

For a while, Gwil keeps looking at them instead of the TV, as Joe watches his game of football and Ben snoozes on him using him as a cushion, both creating the impression of being wondrously synchronised. On the other hand, why shouldn't it be so when the two of them are supposedly is a relationship?

If Gwil gives it a thought, Ben and Joe have always been something else, and now he wonders about what started first, the infamous joke or this affair, and which subsequently triggered which. He believes there's a time for any joke – even the best ones – to end, so this one shouldn't have survived for this long weren't it for Ben and Joe's very obvious attraction to each other in the first place. With a smile, Gwil remembers that notorious photo of Joe and himself they kept teasing Ben with, and he realises that what they called Ben's fit of cold jealousy actually happened just a couple of weeks into the filming. Just a couple of weeks in, and Ben was furiously tearing that picture apart, refusing to share Joe with anyone else, even in the guise of a joke. They all laughed at it, and it went on for a good while, but now Gwil wonders whether Ben merely played his part or if there really was some jealousy involved, the sort which only a person desperately in love could experience. He remembers Joe cuddling and groping Ben dressed as Rogerina, slapping his round arse with fervour, and just how absolutely jubilant both looked; he recalls that trick with an apple they pulled off, Ben ending up with his mouth  _nearly_  on Joe's and just how stupidly happy both were to engage in it.

As the game proceeds, Gwil and Joe exchange a few comments about the progress of it, while Ben keeps stubbornly pretending to be asleep either out of spite, or simply because he's loath to part with Joe, and Gwil tends to gravitate towards the latter explanation. He keeps throwing occasional glances at them, and he can't stop being surprised with just how much _tenderness_ both are radiating.

Joe's hold has discretely relocated to Ben's midsection, his hand now resting next to one of Ben's. He doesn't hold it, not quite, and Gwil believes he isn't supposed to see what he sees, but from his place on the sofa he cannot help it. Joe's index finger rests on Ben's pinkie. His thumb is brushing over the knuckles of Ben's hand in barely noticeable, minute circles. For some reason, the sight is compelling and Gwil simply cannot take his eyes off their not quite joint hands. It looks sweet and loving and at the same time profoundly intimate, and it's funny how the intimacy is not in the obvious fact of Ben lying in Joe's lap – that isn't all that stunning, they could be doing these silly shenanigans while remaining but friends – but in this almost non-existent touch of their fingers.

Another amazing thing about it is that Gwil isn't feeling like that infamous third wheel the internet claims him to be, even though he probably should. Normally, being in the same company with two people besotted with each other is a thing to be endured rather than enjoyed, but with Joe and Ben it's different. As far as those two are concerned, it's more like being with a couple who've been together for quite a while, who have been through thick and thin together, and even though they obviously love each other, the emotion is deeper and smoother than that of first infatuation. Which is odd, of course, given the fact that they couldn't have been in a proper relationship for long. On the other hand, who could possibly know, they might have secretly got married somewhere in Vegas for all Gwil knows.

When the game is finally over, he throws a glance at Ben meaning to tell him that their torture has finished and he can quit pretending to be asleep, but his words die down in his throat when he has enough time to see him properly. Ben really seems to be completely out of it, dozing peacefully with his face half-hidden against Joe's midsection. Gwil can tell he's asleep by his half-open mouth and the even rises and falls of his chest.

Catching Joe's glance, he smirks and nods at the sleeping beauty. Joe follows his gaze, looking down at Ben, and the smile which stretches his lips is so eloquent Gwil is once again astounded by the fact that this really is happening, his two best mates  _are_  a bloody couple. The smile is a mixture of many emotions but the most vivid of them, at least as far as Gwil can judge, are surprise, fondness, which he has seen way too many times on both their faces as of late, and just a bit of awkwardness.

"Poor thing," Joe huffs quietly, shaking his head.

"I think you managed to bore your boyfriend to sleep," Gwil says.

He does it intentionally, both teasing Joe for his football obsession and wondering how he'd react to his words. He says it in a joking manner, of course, so it's not unlike any other joke they've ever shared, but he is curious as to whether Joe will use an opportunity to confess.

"He's not my boyfriend," Joe laughs but he doesn't look at Gwil as he says it.

He seems to be both absolutely delighted and slightly flustered. Apparently, it's not yet time to reveal the truth, so Gwil turns it all completely into a joke.

"Ah, pardon me, my mistake. According to your fanbase,  _king Joe of Instagram_ , he's your husband and I'm the third wheel."

This gets Joe in stitches, which he tries to suppress, apparently not to wake Ben up, but not particularly successfully. He doesn't deny the last statement, though, which is even funnier.

"You fucking troll," he mutters and shakes his head again, but his resentment is obviously fake. He's grinning from ear to ear, looking extraordinarily satisfied with the state of the matter.

"At your service, sir," Gwil chuckles and gets onto his feet. "Good luck disentangling yourself from that sleeping beauty. Gonna have an early night, I think. Your football is indeed better than a sleeping pill, thanks, mate, helps to deal with the jetlag wonderfully."

He nods at the sleeping heap snuggled comfortably against Joe and heads for his own room, smiling.

"Oh piss off," Joe huffs after him, not doing a single thing to actually extricate himself from under Ben. "Sleep tight, hope there'll be lots of football involved!"

"You precious bastard," Gwil chuckles. "Back at you!"

He gets out of the two lovebirds' hair and heads for his room, wishing they would finally give up on all this silly pretence and finally confess. Not because they're making him feel uncomfortable but because it's getting more and more challenging to play along and pretend that he doesn't know. 

*

In the room, Joe remains where he is, only moving a little to shift his hold on Ben. He's got no jetlag, unlike his two friends, so he's in no hurry to go to sleep. He can't afford to waste much time on sleep, not when Ben is visiting – they don't see each other enough as it is – so he switches the channel to the evening news instead. He'll stay here for as long as Ben is asleep, or at least until he feels drowsy enough to go to bed himself.

Occasionally, Joe throws down a glance at Ben's serene face, wondering what kind of sight they're making together. Do people who are not in a romantic relationship even do things like falling asleep on each other? There's virtually no distance at all between them, Ben's face is hidden somewhere in the region of his solar plexus, Joe's arm is resting across his middle, his fingertips drawing intricate patterns on the back of Ben's hand. He wonders what Gwil thinks of them. He wonders if he was serious calling Ben his boyfriend, and then his husband. For some reason, both options sound rather ridiculous to Joe. He understands they're mere labels but neither actually seems to be able to convey the profoundness of his feeling to Ben. _Boyfriend_ sounds superficial, and _husband_ is simply not true. If asked, Joe thinks he'd settle for a  _soulmate_ , someone who has the ability to understand him from half a word and sometimes from half a thought, and he wouldn't be able to express just how grateful he is to whichever higher power that brought them together.

Halfway into the news program, Ben stirs in his arms and, with a yawn, opens his eyes.

"Hi," Joe smiles at him.

The first thing which Ben does is grin up at him, and once more Joe is astounded by the amount of pure, uncurbed infatuation in Ben's eyes. Perhaps it's nothing to be all that surprised about, perhaps it's just what is to be expected when two people are in love, but there's no single occasion when Joe is not amazed and grateful that he is looked at like this. It's a heart-warming thing to feel, and it makes him happy on some deeper level, one which is more fundamental than mere sexual desire. It's always nice to be wanted, but can anything surpass the happiness it evokes when the want is mutual?

"Where's Gwil?" Ben asks as he stretches languidly.

"Went to bed half an hour or so ago," Joe smirks, letting the fingers of his free hand gently comb through Ben's tousled hair. The latter squints up at him contentedly, and with the colour and the shape of his eyes, his pleased grimace looks almost feline. "Said the game was boring. Called you my boyfriend, too."

"Oh?" Ben asks, looking both amused and surprised, and then lifts one of his arms, reaching out for the back of Joe's neck, and slowly but persistently pulls him down to himself. "What did you say? Are we now  _officially_  a couple?"

"I said you aren't," Joe says and shrugs, a bit apologetically. "Couldn't let you miss the chance to break the news yourself, so I guess we'll have to wait till one of them catches us with our pants down... oh, wait, that came out all wrong," Joe laughs quietly watching Ben screw up his eyes and do an expressive face-palm.

"My  _boyfriend_  is an idiot," he mutters, shakes his head and looks back at Joe. "Kiss me, while we still have our pants on and no one's watching."

With a wide grin, Joe complies.

*****

****Ben****

*****

It's the small hours of the morning and the later it gets, the less hope of falling asleep Ben has left. He wasn't going to sleep at all, not at first, but having to endure how the clock's relentlessly measuring seconds which turn into minutes which turn into hours which bring the moment of Joe's departure for New York closer, Ben finds he cannot stand it. Ironically, though, once he as much as entertains the thought that it'll probably be more reasonable and less excruciating to just pass out at last and thus not to have to live through the long hours of anticipation of Joe's departure, sleep simply refuses to come.

Not unlike many people, Ben just hates to be awake in those darkest, quietest, dreariest hours of the night because they have that disgusting ability to evoke the least wanted memories, past regrets and suppressed fears, magnifying their importance manifold. It would be a huge exaggeration to say that currently Ben has much to either fear of or be miserable about. Quite the opposite, he'd be hard-pressed to recall when was the last time he felt this absolutely, blissfully happy. Absurdly, though, the reason why he's happy is the one why he's feeling so utterly forlorn all of a sudden. And it's sleeping right next to him, naked and warm and so infuriatingly precious.  

With a sigh, Ben turns onto his side, trying to do it as quietly as possible lest he wakes Joe up. He's almost envious that the man can sleep through it all like this, while he, Ben, has to toss and turn waiting for the daybreak and dreading it at the same time because it will mean that he'll have to let Joe go and it's the last thing he wants to do. It's been going on for several months, this recurring _meeting-and-parting-and-missing-each-other-terribly-and-meeting-again_ thing, and back at the beginning of it, Ben naively used to assume that it'd be somehow different from a long-distance relationship. In their defence, they didn't label it as a relationship at all at the time, and it seemed reasonable enough – how could they possibly do it when both were virtually clueless as to how to proceed with it. He also used to believe that, given their smooth transition from friends to lovers, the longing should be quenched and become more or less bearable. He used to think that meeting every now and then would be enough. And he's never before been so spectacularly wrong.

It is nowhere near enough, and it never was, even at the very beginning. The very first night he spent with Joe wasn't enough because the next day they had to part. For only a week, granted, but those wretched seven days turned out to be a sheer torture; a week of constantly wanting Joe, wanting to see his smile and feel his touch and hear him murmur some chocked love confessions into his ear. When they met for the Golden Globes, Ben simply couldn't take his eyes off Joe in public and his lips and his hands off him when the hotel room door closed behind them, hiding them from the prying eyes and finally giving them the so much needed privacy.

It's been this week-in, week-out sort of affair, what with all the start-of-the-year film festivals and ceremonies, and, overall, it's been a pleasant ride because Ben knew that even if they had to part, it was only for a few days, and then they were due to attend yet another event together. The problem is, now the ceremonies are over, and this time neither of them knows when and where they're going to meet next time. Ben is certain they will, sooner rather than later, but the present uncertainty is already killing him, even before Joe has actually left London.

So, lying awake in his bed, one he now prefers to think of as  _their_  bed even though they don't share it as often as Ben would like them to – and isn't it funny just how fast it can happen, that a person can find their way into your bed and your life almost literally in the blink of an eye – Ben both wishes he could finally pass out and simultaneously resists it the best he can. As sleep seems to be eluding him anyway, he finally ends up with his elbow propped against the pillow and his head resting in his hand, simply watching Joe.

It's warm inside the room so the only parts of his lover covered with the blanket are his groin and thighs. He's sleeping naked – they both are – and he's lying on his back so the entire expanse of his torso is exposed to Ben's insatiable eyes. The lights are off, of course, but his vision got accustomed to the darkness long ago, so it doesn't seem quite like darkness anymore. Besides, there's enough light from the streetlamps spilling in through the uncurtained window for Ben to be able to see every curve and angle of Joe's body. One of his arms is stuck under his head, and the position accentuates the bicep and stretches his pecs, simultaneously making his ribs protrude just a bit more than they normally would. The muscles of his abdomen stretch in a smooth line from his ribcage down to his groin, tauntingly disappearing underneath the blanket. The semi-darkness in combination with the scarce light seeping in from the street make the contrasts between the curves and hollows of his body more pronounced, and Ben has a compulsive desire to grab his phone and take a shot, to preserve this moment not only in his memory but also on some material device so that he could look at it later and take consolation in it while missing Joe terribly, and he knows he will. Joe looks nothing short of gorgeous like this, and Ben is astounded for an uncountable time that he uses that term in relation to another male, and by the intensity of the desire the sight produces. He has no idea whatsoever how this attraction works, because, on the whole, he still finds himself fascinated by female forms way more than by those of males, but as far as Joe is concerned, it doesn't only get Ben fascinated. It gets him horny, time and time and time again.

Ben watches his lover, silently, the way Joe's chest rises and falls gently following his sleepy, even breathing. His face is turned in Ben's direction, so he can see a little more than his profile, and this lack of lighting makes the features of Joe's face sharper, chiselled. As opposed to real life when it's way more common to encounter him smiling or laughing or smirking or making faces, in this state of oblivion he looks like a masterpiece, and it's that regular, classical beauty Ben is thinking about. With his sharp features and thin lips and that pointy nose, Joe looks like some romantic hero from a tragic story written centuries ago.

With a sigh, unable to suppress either his apparently incurable longing or the deeply settled sadness because of Joe's oncoming departure, Ben reaches out and draws a delicate caress with only the tips of his fingers, letting them travel from Joe's collarbones to his shoulder and back to his chest. He does so in a mesmerised sort of way, still astounded that he's allowed to do it at all, that he wants to do it this badly, that no matter how many times he's already done it before, it still feels nothing short of sensational. As if being enchanted, Ben allows his fingertips to venture downwards, following a path right across the middle of Joe's chest and his stomach. Halfway south, in the region of his solar plexus, he feels Joe's heartbeat, steady and reassuring. He lets his fingers linger there for a while, counting those regular thumps like seconds, and then moves them further down, around Joe's navel and along that thin trail of hair below it until it disappears under the blanket. Then he repeats the same procedure on his way back, ending up with his fingertips caressing Joe's jawline and cheek, just as lightly. He doesn't really want to wake him up – he simply cannot help himself, unable to resist the desire to be closer.

Unsurprisingly, after a while of this, Joe pulls in a breath deeper than all the previous ones and shifts his position a little, turning his head towards Ben.

"Not sleeping?" he mumbles hoarsely, obviously still more asleep rather than awake.

Ben opens his mouth to answer that, no, he cannot, but nothing comes out. For some reason, his throat constricts, not allowing him to squeeze a word past his lips. It's not that he's on the verge of tears, nothing exactly like that, but he's certainly on the verge of something, perhaps suffocation because of just how desperately he wants for the break of morning to never come. Since he just keeps silently cupping Joe's cheek in his palm, the latter opens his eyes and, blinking a few times, finally focuses his gaze on Ben. One of his hands relocates to Ben's forearm and rubs it lightly up and down.

"Whatssup?" he sighs softly.

Ben shrugs and then decides, what the hell. Even though his reluctance to let Joe go might seem silly, it's only to be expected, right?

"Don't want you to leave tomorrow," he murmurs, and then smirks, humourlessly. "Can't sleep."

For a few seconds, Joe simply looks at him, as if trying to banish the remnants of his sleep, and then reaches out to wrap his arm around Ben's shoulders and pulls him to himself until Ben lies almost right on top of him, legs entangled with Joe's and with his cheek resting snugly on Joe's chest. Ben doesn't resist it in the slightest – on the contrary, it's being away from Joe which requires an effort.

"Oh, baby," Joe whispers.

By all rights, this, too, should sound ridiculous – he's not a bloody baby, for god's sake – but it does not. It sounds gentle and loving and very much like Joe. Ben screws up his eyes tight against another fit of dizzying affection.

"I don't want to leave, Ben," Joe murmurs, words muffled against the top of his head. "The only thing I really want is to miss the damn flight. But I cannot, not this time."

"I know," Ben sighs. "Doesn't help."

"We'll meet again, soon," Joe murmurs softly, apparently trying to appear optimistic but sounding just as miserable as Ben's feeling.

"Sounds like a fucking long-distance to me, huh? Never thought I'd end up in it."

To this, Joe only huffs and then sighs heavily, so apparently it is what it is, the dreaded long-distance relationship.

They spend the rest of the night like this, mainly clinging to each other as if trying to get enough of the closeness and love for the upcoming weeks they won't be able to meet. Ben's never been in a situation like this before so this feeling of utter dread and the poignant unwillingness to as much as let go of Joe let alone let him go away are all brand new, and he has no idea as to how to cope with the bitter heartache they invoke. So he resorts to the only thing which seems to be able to provide some relief – he doesn't let Joe out of his embrace and it seems he's physically incapable of stopping kissing him, it doesn't even matter which body part ends beneath his mouth; what he craves for is the warmth of skin and the tangible physical presence of Joe next to himself. That, and Joe's arms around him, holding him with just as much desperate intensity, and Joe's kisses, scratchy because of his stubbornly present stubble but so incredibly soft all the same, and Joe's voice, deep and quiet, whispering little silly endearments, calling him Benny, calling him baby, calling him dearest, an endless string of words involving love repeated in various combinations as if it were a spell, and for all Ben knows, it just might be because with every passing minute of this bittersweet torture he finds himself falling prey to Joe's voice, his hands, his lips, his love. And no, it certainly doesn't make the thought of letting him go any easier to bear, but it makes Ben love him even more.

 

Later, Ben gives Joe a lift to the airport, and even though, initially, it seemed like a great idea, he now understands the reasoning behind what Joe said earlier when he suggested that it might be better if he took a taxi instead. Ben rejected the idea out of hand, but now, as they're sitting inside the car at the airport car park, about to say good-bye to each other, he realises that it could have been easier to bear had he indeed stayed at home. Back there, he could at least kiss Joe properly and just hold him in his arms for as long as he thought necessary, whereas all he can do now is look at him longingly from the driver's seat. The only thing he dares to do here is squeeze Joe's fingers in his hand, and the intensity with which Joe squeezes back makes it all even worse.

_Just why the hell is it happening like this?_  Ben wants to ask.  _Why the hell does it hurt so much? Why does it never seem to be enough, no matter how much time he and Joe spend together? This is all absolutely ridiculous,_  he wants to say but cannot, because it isn't. How can love be ridiculous, after all? And oh, lord, is he in love? Ben doesn't quite know how to handle this huge, profound, overwhelming feeling. The only reasonable thing – the most natural thing, really – which comes to mind would be to simply move in together, but there are so many complications involved, from the most obvious one that they live on different bloody continents to the hard to ignore fact that they are both males, and Ben has absolutely no idea as to how it could be received by people, starting from their families to fans and journalists to the entire crazy world of showbiz. Thinking about it provokes so much confusion it's almost sickening, so Ben screws his eyes shut for a moment or two. He can't think about it all now.

He feels Joe's hand give his yet another squeeze.

"We'll meet again soon," he repeats, but his voice nearly breaks as he says it, so there's little consolation in it, if any at all.

Ben nods, sighs and opens his eyes at last. "Call me when you're home, all right?"

"I think I'll be doing just that every single night until I see you again," Joe says softly.

Then he sighs, too, tightens his hold on Ben's hand yet again and leans in, abruptly, taking Ben by surprise. There's a way too brief, moist, press of his lips on Ben's and then they're gone, and the next moment all Ben wants to do is howl.

"Don't get out," Joe says opening the door. "That'll turn it into a fucking torture."

"It already  _is_  a torture," Ben murmurs but Joe is right – if he gets out of the car with him, he'd most probably won't be able to restrain himself from clinging to him with his whole body. "I love you."

"Love you too, Benny," Joe whispers and then gets out, quickly.

Ben winces as the door slams shut behind him and unlocks the boot so that Joe could get his suitcase. He watches him haul it out, close the lid of the boot and, with a final wave of his hand, head for the departures.

"Fuck," Ben says to himself, quietly, and presses the heels of his hands to his eyes. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

He remains like that for a while until his phone produces a quiet jingle. Ben opens his eyes to take a look at it and, predictably enough, there's a very laconic message from Joe.

_'Drive safely,'_  it says, and it hurts Ben, it hurts him so much and, at the same time, it hurts so awfully good.

_I love you_ , he murmurs into the empty space, dismayed.

It's a long while before he starts the car and heads back to London at last.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Just a collection of little sentimental moments XD The title refers to - surprise-surprise - Queen's One Year of Love.
> 
> The first story is related to Lucy's birthday, which was apparently attended by those two lovebirds. The second was inspired by just how stupidly happy they seem in all those pics taken at the various film ceremonies lately.


End file.
